CONFESSION IS GOOD FOR THE SOUL
by Namarea
Summary: Cesare has always been Lucrezia's confessor until their father, Pope Alexander began discussing giving her hand in marriage. Can Cesare put aside his anger and do his duty as a vicar of Christ?


_**Ok, so this is only the 2nd Borgia fanfic that I've ever written. I really hope that I am doing this couple justice. They are so timeless and their forbidden desires resonate to this day. Thanks again to my dear friend Sid (50251sid on AO3) for the loveliest Borgia fics I've ever read, giving me countless hours of inspiration.**_

_**Please, let me know if you like this offering. Comments are cookies, and we all love cookies, right?**_

* * *

The child woke early this morning as she did each morning, to the sound of peeling chapel bells and the warm sunshine of the Romania. She was twelve years old and it was a beautiful spring morning in Rome, one of the loveliest that Lucrezia Borgia could remember since her father, the Holy Father and heir to Saint Peter, Pope Alexander Sextus, had insisted that she come to live with him in the Papal palace.

The bed upon which she lay was softer than any she'd had at her mother's villa and her room nearly three times the size. It was a grand bed, so large that she feared it might one night swallow her whole and her maids would be none the wiser when they came the next morning to make it up. The bed had been carved of rosewood and burnished to a high shine. It had a canopy above, and heavily-draped panels around, of pale blue velvet. There were sheer inner veils behind the velvet drapes of almost iridescent silver but Lucrezia had no idea of what the veils were made.

The mattress was stuffed with goose down, not mere feathers, but the softest down from the bellies of snow white geese. The sheets were pale gray silk. The coverlet was a blue that matched the drapes and canopy and was embroidered with puffy clouds, and there was a blanket of ermine which lay over the foot of the bed, lest she get cold. The finest painters in Rome had been commissioned by her papa to paint lovely murals on her walls of unicorns frolicking in flower gardens with clouds above that matched the clouds on her coverlet. It was truly a wonderful place to awaken each day.

Lucrezia yawned and stretched before kicking away her coverlet in a most unladylike fashion and hopping from the bed. Her maids had already been in to open the shutters and lay out her day gown and the veil that she would wear to confession that morning after she broke her fast. They would soon be in to dress her and do her hair. She took the opportunity to make use of her chamber pot and caught a glimpse of herself in the polished glass of her dressing table.

Her hair was not gold, but neither was it red. It was a mixture of both and it shone with such luster that her brother, Juan, had told her that upon her birth God himself had sacrificed a bit of liquid sunshine to fashion her crowning glory. Her maids tried in vain to tame it each day, but the riotous curls would forever tumble and fall over her shoulders and down her back past her hips.

"Good morning, my lady," the young handmaiden said as she swept into Lucrezia's room, carrying clean linens and supplies that she would need to attend her mistress. "I trust you slept well?"

"Like a babe in arms, Celia, thank you," Lucrezia replied as she moved to the window seat to look out over the city. Rome truly was grand, she thought, bustling both day and night with people and today was market day. She would be allowed to attend the market, properly chaperoned and escorted of course, and she couldn't wait to see what new treasures had been brought in from all over Italy, France and Spain. Her father had promised her a new frock to celebrate her coming to live with him and she had decided that it would be blue, the very blue of her brother Cesare's eyes.

She had not seen Cesare since he had been named Archbishop of Valencia. His duties were vastly more important than as a mere priest and he now had to travel more, especially since their father had been elected Pontiff. Lucrezia wasn't sure that she understood all the ins and outs of the intrigues of the Roman Catholic Church, but she had no doubt that if she put her mind to it she could figure it out to her satisfaction. After all, Cesare did tell her on more than one occasion that she was the brightest of them all; and Cesare never lied to her, ever.

* * *

After donning her lovely peach silk morning gown that was trimmed in ivory lace and embroidered with tiny pale blue flowers, Lucrezia made her way to the dining chamber of her apartment in the Papal palace. There were several kinds of fruit to choose from, warm breads fresh from the kitchens to be slathered with creamy butter and drizzled with honey. Meats were also available to her swimming in rich sauces that she had never tasted before coming to Rome. And small fishes pickled in jars that were laid out at every meal were also upon the table.

Lucrezia had just settled down upon a heavily-cushioned and gilded chair, and helped herself to all of her favorite foods, when the door leading to the hallway opened and a tall, dark-haired figure robed in purple vestments strode into the room. "Cesare!" Lucrezia squealed as she leapt from the table and ran to her brother. The Archbishop gathered his little sister to him closely, wrapping his arms about her and lifting her off her silk-clad feet for a kiss on her gently-upturned nose. She, however, was having none of the usual pleasantries shared so often between brother and sister, so she hugged him tightly and kissed him full on his warm, red lips.

If her brother was taken aback at the unusual liberty seized by Lucrezia, he did not show it. He merely kissed her back and then dipped his nose to rub lightly across her own before setting her down again and escorting her back to her seat. "And hello to you as well, sis," Cesare returned the greeting, a rakishly devil-may-care grin on his face, which was considerably more difficult to pull off than one might think in the robes of an Archbishop. "Have you been a good girl for our father since your arrival?" he asked buttering himself a slice of the warm bread and licking some off his fingers before looking for the jam that should be somewhere amid the morning's feast.

"Of course, brother," she answered. "But I have been ever so lonely without you. Will you be long in Rome, now that you have returned?" she asked before stealing a grape from his plate and popping it into her wicked little mouth. Not that her brother would complain. He had never denied her anything and he wasn't about to start now.

Cesare eased closer to the enchanting creature before him. How could he answer her question honestly when he knew that it would only bring a frown to her face, a tear to her eye? He would carve out his own still-beating heart and serve it to her if only to make her smile.

"Perhaps, my love," he answered as he took the coward's path, vague enough to satisfy her and yet not upset her. Somewhere within them both they knew that Cesare's time was not his own, he life was not his own. They both knew that he must go where their Holy Father sent him and do what he was bid. They both knew that he would be gone as long as it took to accomplish the behest of their father. But that didn't mean that either of them had to like it.

"Then you are mine for as long as you are here," Lucrezia tendered, her mind utterly made up and she would brook no refusal.

"I have ever been yours, sweet sis, since the day our mother pushed you, howling at the top of your little lungs, into being to grace this world with your presence," Cesare tweak her little nose as he teased her. She laughed in her own delightedly melodious way and the sound wrapped itself like a velvet robe around Cesare's heart.

"You tease me brother," Lucrezia pouted, a twinkle of mirth in her eye despite trying as hard as she could to look vexed

Cesare grabbed his chest and threw himself back into his chair, feigning death. "You slay me, sis," he gasped, "for you know that I would never dare to call down your wrath should I attempt to tease you." He grinned when her little hand found his shoulder in a resounding smack. "How may I ever do penance?"

She thought for a moment and then decided that Cesare would be the one to accompany her to the market. Never could she ever be in better hands or more safe than with her brother and his manservant, what was his name, oh yes, Micheletto. "You will take me to market today, Cesare. Papa has promised me a new frock and I need silk and lace and ribbons to take to the seamstress," she told him and smiled when he agreed. "I must go to confession first, though," she frowned, thinking that their papa would surely find something to occupy Cesare if they didn't leave immediately.

"Then let me hear your confession, my love, and then we will leave just after," Cesare said, smiling as she beamed at him, her happiness so evident on a face that had never known deception.

Lucrezia pulled her veil down over her face and crossed herself as she knelt by her brother's chair. "Bless me father, for I have sinned," she began.

'_Impossible_,' Cesare thought as he gave her a benediction and turned so that he was not looking directly at her. He listened carefully as she spelled out every tiny infraction since her last confession. She had taken a sweet from the kitchen without permission and had forgotten to pray for her youngest brother still at home with their mother. Such were not sins, of course, but they weighed heavily on her young heart, so Cesare set her the task of one extra Our Father prayer before bed and forgave her with the wave of his hand. "_In Nomine Patris, et Filii, et Spiritu Sancti. Amen_," Cesare spoke. He had heard many confessions in his time as a priest, but never had he ever been as enchanted by anyone as he had by Lucrezia's fervent confession.

* * *

And so her life had gone for the past three years, days of leisure, days of prayer, and days of confession. She was fifteen years old now, no longer a child. Lucrezia was a woman, with a woman's body and a woman's heart. She recognized the beauty around her, but no longer with the eyes of a child. Her portrait had been painted no less than three times since she came to live in Rome by only the most important and most expensive artists of the day. She even studied with some of the great maestros, both music and art. The painting she enjoyed, the embroidery she had no tolerance for, no patience to thread the tiny needle and weave pictures from the silken cords.

The Holy Father, her papa, had been talking of marriage for her for the past year, but no suitor had been decided upon. No one, it seemed was good enough for the daughter of the Pope. She was excited for the next stage of her life and had always dreamed of being a wife and a mother. But it seemed that the more her nuptials were discussed, the angrier and more distant her brother, Cesare, had become. He had even stopped hearing her confession which hurt her more than she would admit even to herself; for ever since that first morning at the breakfast table she had only ever confessed her sins to him.

Cesare had recently been named a Cardinal by their papa, which tied him even more securely to the church, which he despised. Lucrezia knew that her brother's dearest wish for his life was to lead their father's forces instead of their hopelessly inept brother, Juan. Cesare wanted to be a general and to win great victories in war, proving himself a worthy hero to the people of Rome, and to their papa. But their papa wouldn't hear of it. '_We would have one son in the cloth and one son in armor_,' their papa had said on more than one occasion. They had fought about it also on more than one occasion. But neither of them knew that Lucrezia was aware of this rift between them.

It was not that she particularly wanted to be married. But what other choice did she have? She was a woman, a wealthy woman of a powerful family surely, but a woman nonetheless. It was her job to be beautiful and marry well, adding to and securing the continued wealth and power of the Borgia name, and to bear children, an heir for her husband. She had tried to speak with Cesare on several occasions about this issue, and her fears surrounding her imminent marriage, but Cesare wouldn't discuss it at all. She would have to catch him alone and pin him down until he gave in and talked to her at last.

An opportunity presented itself sooner than she thought that it would. Pope Alexander was having a ball to celebrate the addition to his court of La Bella Farnese, the great beauty of Rome. Some whispered that Giulia Farnese was the Pope's newest mistress but Lucrezia could not give say one way or another. She knew that her mother would always have a special place in her papa's heart, but she also knew that the Pope did not visit her mother as he used to.

Upon learning of the ball, Lucrezia's mind had worked furiously to concoct a plan to get Cesare all to herself. If she allowed herself to admit it, she would realize that she spent far too much time in thoughts of Cesare, much too often for her own good. He was so beautiful to her, with wild black hair and sparkling blue-grey eyes. His skin was clear and white with a dark sprinkling of whiskers on his face and his lips were full and red. He was tall, so very tall, towering over her in just the way that always made her feel tiny and all the more safe for his size. His legs were long and slim and always tucked into tight black leathers when he wasn't wearing his crimson robes. His codpiece was large and bulging as well and Lucrezia blushed to wonder if it was for necessity or just decoration.

She picked her gown with care for the ball. It was new and she had not yet worn it so Cesare had not yet seen it. The silk satin was emerald green setting off the reddish gold of her hair to perfection. It was very low cut and tight around her chest, pushing her bosom up and rounding them so that they heaved with her every breath. Her hair gleamed as it spilled down her back. It was held back from her face by intricate braids and a net woven of pure gold with emeralds interspaced between the threads.

Her mother, Vannozza dei Cattanei, had been gifted with an exquisite suite of emerald jewels set in gold upon Lucrezia's birth from her father Rodrigo Borgia, now Pope Alexander, and she had passed them along to Lucrezia on her last name day. They consisted of earrings that hung almost to her shoulders, a lovely heavy choker and a matched set of bracelets for each wrist. She wore them tonight and grinned with pride when her father saw her in the receiving line and nodded his approval when he recognized the jewels. "Dearest girl, I have never seen those jewels look more beautiful, even though they pale in comparison to your own beauty," he had said. Lucrezia had blushed like the maiden she was and dropped a prim curtsey to her papa.

The ball was well into its third hour and Lucrezia had yet to dance with Cesare. She had been approached by every eligible man, and a few that were not eligible, in attendance that night and she, of course, did her duty and danced with each one in turn. She had even danced with her drunken fool of a brother, Juan, enduring his stumbles and heavy-handed gropes to her person, hoping against hope that Cesare would step in and spell her.

She was beginning to despair of her plan actually coming to fruition when she felt eyes upon her and turned to look across the room. Two pairs of stormy eyes met and in that moment the entirety of the room, guests, musicians, hosts and all, seemed to disappear. The crowded dance floor parted as Cesare moved to cross to her side. He looked down at her, his eyes boring into her as he lifted her hand in his own to place a gentle kiss upon her first her knuckles and then her fingertips. "You look exquisite this night, sis," he breathed, his eyes smoldering with unfettered desire. "Dance with me."

Lucrezia could not speak. She had seen into Cesare's soul when he gazed into her eyes and she was stunned into utter silence. Many men had looked upon her with desire. She knew that she was beautiful and many men wanted her. But there was a desperation, an intensity, in Cesare's gaze that held her captive and caused her heart to flutter as it seemed to sink into her belly. Her hand that was not being held by her brother came to her throat as though trying to physically pull the words from her body. But still she said nothing and only nodded in assent when her presence of mind returned enough to realize that Cesare was still waiting for an answer to his question.

The music changed from an up tempo piece to a slow, melodic song fit for lovers. Cesare escorted Lucrezia onto the dance floor and they moved together as one body, circling each other as twin stars, tied together with the gravity of their love for each other. The touch of their hands throughout the dance was a gentle caress and not the mere press of palms one would generally do with a partner in the dance. Their eyes never left each other from the first bow and curtsey to the last drawn out note of the song; and, when the dance was finished and Cesare at last escorted Lucrezia from the floor she put her plan into motion before he could leave her again.

Lucrezia looked up at Cesare from beneath her golden lashes and swooned. Cesare caught her in his arms as ladies around them squealed and screamed. Pope Alexander and Giulia Farnese rushed to Lucrezia's side. "I believe she is fine, father," Cesare said. "She must have just gotten overheated."

"Take her to her room, my son," Rodrigo said, "and see to her comfort. Call for the physician if you feel the need." He kissed his daughter's brow and motioned for the musicians to resume playing. "The lovely Lucrezia has had, it seems, too much fun and frivolity this evening. So let us have her share in her stead," the Pope announced. The crowd cheered and resumed their merriment as Cesare left with Lucrezia in his arms.

* * *

Midway to Lucrezia's room, she roused up to encircle Cesare's neck with her arms and bury her face in the delicious scent of his hair. "Brother," she whimpered, mouthing softly at his earlobe and kissing his neck. "I have missed you so."

Cesare stopped in the hallway and stepped into a secluded alcove. "You are not unwell, sis?" he asked, setting her down onto her feet and taking her face between his hands to look her over. "Do you wish to return to the ball?"

Lucrezia shook her head as tears welled into her eyes. All she wanted was to be safely back in her brother's arms, to have him hold her again, and never let her go. "No, I am not unwell," she sniffled. "I am only heartsick, Cesare, for want of your company, for want of you," she replied as her tears spilled unhindered down her wan cheeks. "I have missed you so and you have avoided me for so long, brother. Why? What have I done or said to incur your anger, your dismissal? I would undo it if I could. I thought that if anyone in the world loved me, it would always be you," she entreated, touching his face before leaning fully against him, her cheek on his chest.

Cesare groaned, leaning his face into her touch. "My love," he breathed, turning to kiss her palm, "I do love you and will always love you."

"Then why, Cesare? Why have you left me alone, stopped hearing my confessions, avoided me at every turn. Why?" Lucrezia couldn't stop her tears, had no desire to stop them. They were a cleansing of her soul and all the anguish of the past year that she had felt was pouring out from her as her tears poured out from her eyes. She had always been able to manipulate her surroundings, bend people to her will. She had always been able to hide her true heart from the world, except from Cesare. He alone knew her inside and out and he alone had accepted her for just who and what she was, until now.

"Lucrezia," he said, the name spoken as though it was ripped from his very soul. "I love you more than I have ever loved anyone, more than I shall ever love anyone, and you will never be mine. Don't you see that?" There were tears in his eyes now too. He couldn't bear the lost look upon her face, the tears she was shedding because of him. "He would marry you to someone else. He would have _me_ perform the rite, and I cannot. I cannot marry you to another, Lucrezia. I cannot have you and yet I cannot stop wanting you. I am damned, my love," he wept, pulling her against him tightly.

"Then we are both damned, beloved brother," Lucrezia whispered as she clung to the only man she would ever truly love. Pulling away, she drew Cesare down to sit beside her on a stone bench in the alcove. "I would ask you to hear my confession, my love," she said with a sad smile. And knowing that he could never again deny her anything, Cesare nodded and performed the sign of the cross over her.

"Father, forgive me for I have sinned. It has been more than a year since my last confession," she began, Cesare's eyes widening to learn that she had not gone to another to confess. "I have had carnal thoughts, Father, lustful thoughts about a man to whom I have given my heart." Cesare looked stricken. "He is so beautiful, Father, with dark hair and eyes that burn for me when he thinks that I do not see. He is tall and strong with arms made to hold only me and a heart that I ache to possess."

Cesare closed his eyes and listened to her with his whole heart. Lucrezia continued, reaching out to grasp his thigh with her small hand. "I long for him to take me, Father, kiss me and caress me until I weep with need and beg him to complete me. I want to take him within my body, join with him and be united at long last." Cesare's breathing quickened as his hand found hers on his thigh. He did not stop her as that hand stole up his leg and dipped between. "I want to bear his children and take them to my breasts. I want to grow old with him and die with him when my time is at its end. Please, Father, tell me that this sin can be forgiven if he does not want me."

Cesare grabbed his sister up from the bench and ran with her on through the halls to her bedroom. He dismissed her maids immediately and made quick work of removing their clothing. "There is no forgiveness to be found, sweet sis, and none to be sought," he said as he kissed every inch of her body. "For your love, your desire is very much returned; and though we may never be able to live together as one flesh, we will always be one heart, one soul. If God damns me for loving you, then I am damned, and happily so, for I will never be foresworn of my love for you, Lucrezia…_never_."

"I am yours, brother, now and always," Lucrezia cried out as Cesare's lips found her nether lips and his tongue found her bud. "I will never love another as I love you…Cesare!" his name was forced from her lips with a scream as her first climax hit her in wave upon wave of pleasure. She reached down and drew him up to lay upon her and as he kissed her once again, she tasted herself on his tongue and wrapped her legs around his waist. "Make me truly yours, Cesare. Take from me what no one else will ever have, my love." And with one long, seemingly endless, thrust he did just that.

* * *

When morning dawned bright and clear, Lucrezia rolled over to find her stunningly beautiful Cesare still with her. He lay upon his back, one arm thrown carelessly over his eyes. He was uncovered and lay fully naked, a sight that would make the angels weep. Lucrezia took her time memorizing the entirety of him from the tousled locks on his head to the dark thick curls which framed his manhood.

She smiled then and a tiny giggle left her chest as she recalled once wondering if her brother's codpiece was overly large out of necessity or a purely decorative boost to his ego. She was happy to say that she would never again have to wonder, except that now she marveled that such an endowment could be contained at all.

There was blood on her thighs and a lovely burning between them. He had taken her at last and she was truly a woman now. Cesare had accepted her love and returned his love to her. And as she kissed him awake she pressed her chilled body against his warmth in the full light of day. Oh how she longed for the impossible, to remain by his side as his wife and the mother of his children. She knew that they might be forced by politics or financial gain to join with others, but never by love. Lucrezia had given and Cesare had taken and then he had given of himself in return. Her innocence was his, her body was his, her love was his and he, her beloved brother, was hers forever. '_Oh yes_,' Lucrezia thought with a smile, '_confession was very good for the soul_.'

**Fin**


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